


if the high (was worth the pain)

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lance Hunter is a damsel in distress, and Bobbi really wishes she could drop him without it looking bad for her whole "superhero" image.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the high (was worth the pain)

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon on tumblr that requested: "Can you write Lance x Bobbi based on that post about her being a superhero and him being not knowing?"
> 
> (The title is from TSwift's Black Space, purely because I've been listening to the song all day since the video dropped, oops.)

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he says in that little voice of his that she thinks is somebody trying to be suave but failing horribly.

She wonders if she could drop him and call it an accident, or a _mercy killing_.

The Mockingbird might get slack for a bit, for saving the ‘poor’ _idiotic_ reporter only to have him, literally, slip through her grasp and fall onto the ground below with a sickening splat, but once they realized that the world was better off with one less Lance Hunter living in it, surely they would be understanding.

As if reading her mind his grip tightens around her, “I don’t mind the whole saving thing, personally I’m glad you did, that lunatic kept talking about being hungry in the middle of his villainous rant and I’m glad I’m not Hydra lunchmeat.”

“Noted,” Bobbi replied, voice dry and nearly humorless not that Lance seems to care.

“Being your damsel in distress is honestly the highlight of my day,” he continues with a little laugh, that she used to find endearing.

Though the time for finding that endearing was years gone, not that the baddies who populated this city could seem to get the memo that Lance was her _ex-husband_ and while she would still show up to save his sorry ass, she took absolutely no enjoyment out of it.

Not that she normally enjoyed this sort of thing, but being around Lance made everything ten times worse.

It probably didn’t help that he had no idea who she really was underneath the mask.

But that was his own fault, bad reporting skills, after all the black mask barely covered her cheekbones, if Lance couldn’t identify the woman he had been married to for two years (and divorced for another one) simply because her _cheekbones_ were hidden then clearly this was just proof that he had been a shitty husband- or a shitty reporter, probably both.

This is usually the part when he makes a not to subtle comment about how he suspects that the evil villain of the day is probably his _demonic hell beast_ of an ex-wife (his exact words, thankfully she hadn’t been holding him the first time it happened) and that he should maybe look into that.

Except this time he doesn’t, when his laughter dies down he assumes a more serious expression, or as serious as one can have with their arms wrapped around a flying superhero, and says, “I’m serious.  Its fun and all, getting kidnapped as bait, great for my career actually, but, love, I can’t do this anymore.”

She’s heard those words before, after coming into an apartment at two in the morning with no reasonable explanation she could have given him for where she’s been or the bruises on her skin.

Her secret identity didn’t come with a job that could explain that sort of thing.

Though really by the time that had come around they had both known it was only a matter of time.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he repeats, his voice solid and present, putting more stress on the words.  

She doesn’t say anything until they’ve landed on the a nearby rooftop, and Lance whose always been stupidly afraid of heights lets out a breath of relief to be on solid ground. It reminds her of the first time this happened, some villain who had accidently learned her secret identity or just noticed that one of the ever allusive heroes of New York was being a bit to kind to a certain reporter, had decided that kidnapping him would work as an excellent way to get under her skin.

It certainly had, in more ways than one.

So Bobbi asks the inevitable, “and why not?”

“There’s somebody else,” he says, because pausing and looking maybe a bit embarrassed, but this is Lance and she knows he doesn’t get anything close to embarrassed, “oh bloody hell, that sounds like we’re dating and I cheated on you- which to be clear we’re not doing,” he grins and gives her a little once over, “not that I mind, _would have minded_ , I personally would love to undo those buttons of yours literally and metaphorically if you don’t what I mean-“ of course, she knows what he means, “but that’s not the point here.”

Bobbi waves her hand a bit signaling for him to go on, and she almost kicks herself, because it’s such a _her_ expression that surely something like that would clue him in, but no- he’s oblivious as ever.

“See there’s this girl, _woman_ ,” he corrects, “and she’s incredibly everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and I know she doesn’t feel the same, not by a longshot, but if I’m going to have a chance of fixing things between up then I need to stop this.”

“I see,” Bobbi pauses, searching her mind for a memory of where she had rescued him from, trying to recall if there had been a woman standing off to the side looking worried and upset that her boyfriend was being snatched away by some lunatic in a mask, but could really nothing in particular that stood out.

“You know before, I talked about how I was married,” he asks.

Years of practice has helped her keep her voice level, as she says, “you mentioned getting a divorce once or twice.”

“Yeah, we were,” Lance stops, shakes his head and says, “well, let’s just say it ended badly.”

“Right, and now you’re moving on.”

His laugh is not the warm infectious one that he usually has, it’s a bitter one, “I wish it were that easy, love.”

She doesn’t say anything, because there’s a very small part of her that thinks she knows where this is coming and it is not a conversation she wants to have, ever, with him, but leaving right now seems like an option that she just can’t take.

So she stands there, silently until he eventually continues, “she’s back in town, I ran into her- well, that’s not important, but we’re getting tea tomorrow, and I still have feelings for her. Which is completely mad, I know, but if there’s a chance, if there’s any chance then I have to take it, you know?”

She hadn’t known.

But she just nods her head once, “yeah, sure, I’ll stop saving your sorry ass.”

She expects him to quip something back like usual, but instead his lips just curl up into a smile, and he says, “thanks, mate.”

That’s her cue to leave, and she knows that moving to the edge of the roof- she expects any moment now that he’ll ask if she can at least set him down on something other than the roof, he’s complained about her leaving him up here before, but instead he just says, “don’t die out there.”


End file.
